


Burning

by JehanetteProuvaire



Category: Star Trek: Discovery, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Rescue, sex doesn't happen for a while tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 01:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehanetteProuvaire/pseuds/JehanetteProuvaire
Summary: After a supposedly safe mission goes awry, Michael finds herself rescued by a stranger who proves to be a former Jedi. As days stretch into weeks, she finds she's more drawn to Ahsoka than she ever thought she might be.





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/gifts).



“I never heard of a Klingon Jedi,” Tilly said. “I thought they’d all wind up… you know, on the other side.”

“You’re allowed to say ‘Sith’, Tilly,” Tyler said. “They’re not like bears. Just saying their name won’t summon one out of nowhere to find you.”

Tilly’s eyes, always wide, now grew wider still. “Bears can come if you just say the word ‘bear’?”

Tyler shook his head and swallowed the bite of food he’d just taken. “‘Bear’ is a… shit, I can’t remember the word right now, but it comes from a word meaning ‘brown’. The original word for bear has been lost to history. People were too afraid to say it.”

“Kenning,” Michael said.

Both Tilly and Tyler looked up in surprise, as though they had forgotten she was there. She wasn’t offended. (Offense would be illogical.) She had been silent, thinking about the diplomats they had arranged to pick up and take to Tarsus IV. Tilly, of course, had chattered away all the while, inevitably drawing Tyler into conversation with her. Nearly everyone on the ship called it her Jedi Mind Trick.

“Kenning,” Tilly repeated. “I thought that was poetry?”

“It’s used in poetry,” Michael said. “Human, particularly Icelandic; Twi’lek; and Romulan. It’s a poetic device used to…” She stopped herself and smiled a little. “But you don’t want a poetry lesson right now.”

“Or maybe we do.” Tyler turned to her, the start of a smile on his lips. It likely wouldn’t become a true smile, but even that softness around his eyes was comforting. “Romulan poetry? I wouldn’t have thought you the sort to read that.”

She was, rather selfishly, glad he hadn’t asked about Twi’lek poetry. “You thought I only read Virchan?”

“I’m guessing that’s a Vulcan poet?”

“Close enough.” She read like a Vulcan to human eyes, or so Michael had been told. To her, the differences were obvious. “I’ll recommend you some later. Their epics are… something.”

“That’s the most human you’ve ever sounded.” Was that a flash of a smile on Tyler’s face? If so, it was gone too quickly for Michael to tell.

“Tyler!” Tilly sounded shocked, almost offended, but she didn’t give Michael enough time to either thank her friend for sticking up for her or tell her she didn’t need to be protected from teasing. In her next breath, she turned to Michael and said, “So, are there Klingon Jedi?”

“As far as I’m aware,” Michael said. “I’ve never met one, but it isn’t impossible.”

“Just like Vulcans going over to… the other side?”

“I think those are called Romulans, Tilly.”

That was definitely a hint of a smile on Tyler’s face. Michael was sure one of her own was beginning to grow as Tyler went on.

“They’re not bears, Tilly. Go one, say it. It’s a very simple word.”

Tilly’s cheeks were turning bright pink, though she otherwise managed to keep her composure. Mostly. As she turned to Michael and spoke, her voice was a little higher than normal, and she spoke more quickly. “Are you Force sensitive at all?”

“No,” Michael said. “Jedi aren’t allowed in Starfleet.” They worked closely alongside Starfleet, and once her brother finished his training and became a master, she had little doubt they would see more of one another than they had over the past several years. It would be nice to see him again, and she rather hoped he felt the same way. “I’d thought you knew that.”

“I do,” Tilly said, frowning. “But you can be sensitive to the Force without being a Jedi, can’t you? I mean, you were raised by Vulcans, so I figured they would have taught you to tap into that.” Her cheeks were pinker than ever, and she looked down at her tray. “Sorry. I didn’t mean --”

“It’s fine,” Michael said. “Not everyone’s Force sensitive. Not even those raised by Vulcans.”

That brought a bit of a smile back to Tilly’s face, but there wasn’t time for much more. Tyler got to his feet. “We’ve got to go. See you when it’s over, Tilly.”

“Tell me everything!” Tilly called after them as they left the mess hall.

“Do you think there will be much to tell?” Tyler asked in a low voice once they’d reached the turbolift.

Michael shrugged. “It’s not likely. We’re meeting a small delegation. I doubt there will be much to tell beyond the basics of species and name.” That might be enough to satisfy her. It was sometimes hard to tell just how boundless her friend’s curiosity might be.

“We could always make up details. I doubt she’ll mind if it makes for a good story.”

That _was_ a smile. Michael looked up at him in amazement. Ever since Tyler had been rescued from the Separatists and joined the crew of the _Discovery_ , he had been friendly but withdrawn, only hints of emotion showing. To see a true smile was highly unexpected, and Michael was surprised by just how pleased she was by it.

Pleasure and amazement both were soon buried beneath stoicism. “If all goes well and the Jedi can convince more Klingons to side with the Federation, we’ll have plenty to tell her. It’ll be a turning point in the war.”

“It will,” Tyler murmured, and there wasn’t enough time for Michael to understand the look that passed across his face before the turbolift doors opened and they headed for the transporter. It was almost wistfulness, but at the same time wasn’t. She frowned slightly but went along after him. There would be time later for trivialities.

The rest of the away team was there, waiting for them, but they didn’t look as though they’d been waiting long. Captain Lorca, Saru, and a small security detail stood ready, and Michael and Tyler took the empty spots on the transporter pad. One of the security officers caught Tyler’s eye, and they shared a quick nod, but no one bothered to do the same for Michael. Saru was the only one who even looked at her, and he looked away as soon as they had made eye contact.

She wasn’t surprised. What had happened on Mustafar still cast a shadow over her reputation, a shadow Tyler didn’t have, even though he was far newer to the crew.

Lorca gave the order, and for a moment there was nothing at all around her. Michael had a split second to imagine she could feel her atoms disassembling and reassembling, but she knew it was all in her mind. In the space of a blink, they were on the surface of Dava IV.

In the space of a blink, they were in hell.

Michael dropped to one knee, bracing herself against the ground as the earth shook beneath her feet. The field chosen for the rendezvous burned around them, and the acrid smoke stung at her throat.

“Jesus,” Lorca said as the shaking eased. “What the hell happened?”

It looked like the war had reached here, Michael thought, and she turned to Tyler. Under the flickering red from the firelight, his face was ashen, and on an impulse she reached out to take his arm. The ground shook again, and she stumbled. They all stumbled, and one of the security officers began cursing in Bocce.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Lorca said. “How in the hell --”

“That way!” Michael grabbed Tyler’s arm and pulled him toward the fewest amount of fires. Lorca didn’t bother to reprimand her for giving orders; he was right behind her. She could hear his feet crunching on the dead grass beneath them, followed by Saru and the security officers. She heard their coughs, too, between her own. The smoke had grown sharper, and she felt as though her lungs were on fire. Someone ought to contact the _Discovery_ to pick them up. Someone ought to --

She didn’t feel what hit her. She didn’t see Tyler turn and grab for her only to be pushed ahead by Lorca. She didn’t hear Saru calling her name, or see the security officers firing blindly into the smoke at whoever was firing back at them. She only knew that she was running, and then there was nothing.

* * *

Michael woke coughing, and a cool hand on her shoulder pushed her back onto the cot. “Rest,” a low, female voice said. “You could have died out there.”

“I --”

“ _Rest._ ”

Michael was too tired to argue. Her eyes fluttered, just long enough for her to catch sight of a pair of white and blue lekku before she surrendered to unconsciousness.

* * *

The second time Michael woke was the same, but not the third. On the third, her eyes opened and remained open. She still felt too weak to move, but she was alert enough to at least look around her and get a sense for where she was.

She didn’t get much of a sense. She lay on a small bed, just large enough for her to fit on, with rough sheets against her bare skin.

Bare skin. A bare shoulder that cool hand had touched. She was completely nude.

Michael sat up from surprise, then slumped back against the pillow. Her chest burned, though she couldn’t say whether it was from the effort of sitting up or the effort of breathing. She remembered the smoke searing her throat and lungs and took a tentative breath. When that went well, she took a deeper one, which set her off coughing. The small effort of that alone wearied her, and she rolled onto her side, staring out at the room.

It was dark, but even in the darkness, she could tell it was barely furnished. The bed was likely the largest piece of furniture there. There were a few vague shapes scattered about, but Michael couldn’t make out what they were.

“Lights,” she said experimentally. Nothing happened. Michael closed her eyes, then opened them once more. 

The room was humming.

She was definitely on a ship, then, or at least a station. Probably a ship, because she knew that sort of hum. It was the kind that had surrounded her for her time on the _Discovery_ , albeit somewhat higher pitched. A small ship, then. She already knew she wasn’t on a shuttle, and that meant she probably wasn’t headed for the _Discovery_ at all.

Michael forced herself to sit up. She wasn’t going to just sit around and wait for something to happen. It might be hard for her to breathe just now, and she might not have any idea where her clothes were, but neither of those would stop her. She was a Starfleet officer. She was _Michael Burnham_. If anyone could get out of this mess, she could.

She had just finished telling herself that when the door slid open and light spilled into the room. Out of habit, Michael pulled the blanket up over her breasts but paused when she caught better sight of the figure standing in the door.

Blue and white lekku. 

Michael licked her dry lips. “You were here before,” she rasped.

“We’re the only two people on this ship,” the other female said. As Michael’s eyes adjusted to the light, she realized she was speaking to a Togruta. That explained the stripes on the lekku, then. “If you’d seen anyone else, I might be worried.”

The Togruta crossed the room in quick, even strides. She had long legs. Everything about her was long, really. She was a lean being, but she carried herself like a fighter.

Michael’s blink must have lasted longer than she had thought, for the next thing she knew, the Togruta bent over her, a cool hand pressed to her forehead. “How do you feel?” she asked, peering down into Michael’s eyes.

Tired. Aching. Parched.

“Like shit,” she rasped.

The Togruta smiled. She had an odd smile; it reminded Michael of Tyler, for some reason. It was the smile of someone who had lost a great deal. “I bet you felt a lot worse before I picked you up,” she said. “Davan grasses are deadly when they’re burned, and the ones on Dava IV are the worst. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Michael felt lucky until she remembered she hadn’t been the only one inhaling the smoke. “The others…”

“They’re fine,” the Togruta said. “Possibly a bit worse for wear, but they’ll recover. They made it back to their ship.”

And she hadn’t. Michael’s head pulsed, but this wasn’t the sort of mystery she could walk away from. Deep breaths were out of the question, but she could breathe a little, and she took her time before speaking. The Togruta didn’t press her. She only watched with an eerily familiar patience. It seemed Vulcan at first, but after a few seconds, Michael realized it was something else.

Jedi.

When she could speak, she sat up a little. The Togruta -- the Jedi? -- didn’t try to stop her. She must have known somehow that Michael was capable of doing what she must. “How did they make it back without me?”

For a moment, Michael thought the Togruta would insist she rest before hearing anything more. Instead, the Togruta perched on the edge of the bed, only just finding enough room to fit. There wasn’t any space for Michael to slide closer to the wall, and instead she felt the Togruta’s warmth against her side. It was pleasant, even if she felt somewhat dizzy. It was the damage to her lungs, surely. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

“You came to Dava IV to meet the delegates to the peace conference, didn’t you?”

Michael nodded, then winced. “It wasn’t really important. More a show of good faith than anything else. We were supposed to be --”

“An honor guard?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, you weren’t the only ones here,” the Togruta said. “Another group had come to meet the ambassadors, but with… less than honorable motives.”

Michael’s groan was more from frustration than from pain. Of course. Any attempt to get the Klingons to join the Federation, whether it was the Trade Federation or the United Federation of Planets, was bound to face some obstruction. “Sith or Separatists?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know yet. I don’t have enough information to go off, and I didn’t have enough time to search, not if I was going to save your life.” She looked wistful for a moment, but the expression vanished quickly. “Whoever they were, they had enough firepower to cause some damage. Over three square kilometers were burning when we left.”

Christ. Christ and Surek and the Force and any other deity or deific force she could think to swear by. Michael closed her eyes, then opened them again. “The others made it out all right?”

“They did. You were separated from them shortly after I came to find you.”

“How?”

“It will be easier if I show you.” The Togruta reached out a hand, then paused. “May I?”

“Yes,” Michael whispered.

The Togruta touched her temples, and Michael was thrown into a vision.

* * *

Ahsoka Tano ( _so that was her name, Michael thought, before she was swept up into the rest of the vision_ ) ran through the smoke of Dava IV. The heat brought a blush of red to her skin, but she was not blistered yet, and her mask kept the toxic smoke from her lungs and eyes. If it weren’t for that, she would be dead in minutes.

Like those poor souls up ahead. A group of five -- no, six -- trying to flee through the flames. They weren’t the people who had set this blaze, she was sure. Their fear was easy to feel. It didn’t take a former Jedi to sense it.

Ahsoka raced toward them. Her meeting with the delegates could wait. These people needed her more immediately.

At least, it would be far easier for her to reach them more immediately.

She hadn’t gotten halfway toward them when someone -- very likely the same person who had set fire to the prairie but for all she knew both Separatists and Sith were here, and if that were the case it hardly mattered whether they were working together or separately because they were all fucked -- opened fire on the group. Only one was hit before the group returned fire, but that hit was enough. The figure went down hard, and one of the group slowed to lift her.

They were all going to die if they didn’t keep moving. Ahsoka pushed herself to run faster, cursing under her breath. She wasn’t going to see anyone die. Not today. Not this time.

“Hey!” she called, when she was close enough that they might be able to hear her. “Keep moving! Don’t stop!”

One of the figures -- male, human, stern -- started to call something back but descended into coughing before he could get much out. He only shook his head and continued doing so as he tried to lift the fallen figure. The men with phasers -- not blasters, which meant they must be Starfleet, though their uniforms told her so as she drew closer -- kept up a good cover, but it wouldn’t be enough. At some point, sooner rather than later, they would be overpowered.

Ahsoka drew her blaster and fired as she ran, aiming into the smoke at whoever was firing at the group. It was possible she would do no good, but she at least had to try. If nothing else, it would be a sign that someone else had come to fight on Starfleet’s behalf.

The fallen Starfleet was also human, but female, and considerably younger than the man trying to lift her. Ahsoka bent and heaved her up. Though she was slimmer, she was strong and had the Force to aid her. The woman was dead weight against her, but Ahsoka didn’t flinch.

“You have to go,” she said, gesturing with her blaster. The man must have seen a great deal in his time, for he didn’t so much as flinch. Maybe he thought she was harmless. Maybe he had seen so much as to be beyond fear.

“We won’t leave her,” he said, his voice hoarse with smoke. Ahsoka was half-tempted to use the Force to convince him, but even if she hadn’t sworn to herself never to do that, she doubted it would work. She could see it in his eyes; he was far too strong-willed. She would have to use logic instead.

Ahsoka started to move away, inching in the direction the group had been. “You came from a ship, didn’t you?” she asked. When the man nodded, she went on, “Why haven’t you tried going back? You’ve got communicators.” And their ship would have a transporter. Any Starfleet vessel worth its salt did, and plenty of others besides, though Ahsoka didn’t entirely trust them.

“Jammed,” the man said. “Must have been from the instant we touched down.”

Then whoever had attacked them would have known they would be here. This had been planned.

A chill ran down Ahsoka’s spine, and she tried to tell herself it was just sweat, as though that wouldn’t have evaporated instantly in this dry heat. “Their signal can’t block the entire planet. If you can get out of range, you can transport back to your ship.”

“But Michael --”

Michael. So she had a name for the shallowly-breathing woman she half-dragged across the earth. “Michael will only slow you down. I’m not asking you to leave her to die,” she said, before the man could interject. “I’m only asking you to save yourselves. I’ll save her.” She made sure the words were final, putting all her weight behind them. She spoke as a former Jedi, and the man must have heard something of that in her words, for he nodded.

“You’d better get us back to her in one piece,” he said. “I’m not a man who finds forgiveness easy.”

Ahsoka had little doubt of that. “Go,” she said. “I’ll meet you as soon as I can.” The group took off at a run, and Ahsoka hurried in another direction, trusting the smoke to hide her as she returned to her ship.

* * *

Michael hadn’t closed her eyes, but she still felt them fluttering as the vision ended. It was so much more intense than a Vulcan mind meld, and for a moment she could only stare up at the Togruta.

Ahsoka. Now that she knew her name, she ought to use it.

“Thank you,” she rasped. “For saving me.”

“It’s what any Jedi would have done.”

What any Starfleet officer would have done, too. What any decent person would have done. But being a Jedi -- a former Jedi, Michael corrected herself, remembering what the Togruta had shown her -- must have shown her plenty of activity that was far from decent. She might well have seen enough to make small kindnesses seem astonishing.

“I’ll try to return the favor someday,” she said.

“If you get the chance, I’ll be sure to let you.” Ahsoka smiled and got to her feet. “Now you really do need to rest. You survived, but your lungs haven’t fully recovered yet.”

“I noticed,” Michael mumbled as she rolled onto her side. The last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was Ahsoka’s laughter.

* * *

Recovery took days. At least, Michael thought it took days. It was hard to tell on a small ship that didn’t have a set day-night schedule for those crew members adapted to Earth-like planets, and harder still when she slept most of the time. It took several instances of waking up and eating. That was an easier way to put it.

The rations on this ship weren’t nearly as good as the food that came out of Starfleet replicators. They weren’t even as good as Starfleet rations, a phrase Michael hadn’t thought existed. When she commented on it to Ahsoka, Ahsoka laughed.

She had a bright, almost brash laugh, one that contrasted with her stoic demeanor. Michael rather liked it.

By the time she had recovered, Michael hadn’t the faintest idea where they were, only that they were out somewhere in the middle of space. They were safe, if any place could truly be considered safe when caught in the middle of a three-way war. Back when it was beginning, Michael had thought it more trouble than it was worth. Of course, that was the whole point. What better time for the Sith to suddenly emerge from legends than in the middle of a civil war in the Federation?

Not that anyone called it a civil war now. It had gone too far for that. The Separatists really were their own society now.

Ahsoka warned her not to push herself, though she hardly needed to. You couldn’t be a Starfleet officer without getting wounded, and the more often you were injured, the more chances you had to practice recovering. Michael knew just how far she could push herself, and while she did press up against those limits, she never went over them.

Still, she rather liked hearing that from Ahsoka. Even though they had only just met, there was something familiar in her voice, a concern Michael hadn’t heard from other doctors.

Maybe it was the Jedi in her. She seemed exactly what a Jedi ought to be. She was the sort of Jedi Michael had wanted to be when she was a little girl, before she had learned that if she did have any connection to the Force, it was too weak for her to be trained. It was a good thing she had accepted that years ago. If she hadn’t, she might start feeling bitter, and just now it was almost impossible to imagine feeling bitter toward Ahsoka.

If nothing else, that would make for a very difficult trip back to the _Discovery_.

* * *

There weren’t really enough cabins on the ship for any privacy. There was the helm set aside from everything else, and a single turret with phase cannons they thankfully hadn’t needed to use (yet), and the engine, and something of a mess hall, and two personal cabins. Michael had her own, and she hadn’t seen Ahsoka’s. She likely never would; there was no reason to.

Still, such limited space meant there was less room to see just how much strength she had regained, and she couldn’t stay in her own cabin all the time. Every now and then when she was out running, she would happen upon Ahsoka, who would sometimes call out that she ought to be careful. As time went on, she simply watched with her strange smile.

Michael always wondered what she was thinking about. She was a mystery, one that perhaps didn’t necessarily have to be solved, but the longer they spent together, the more interested Michael was in at least picking up a few clues.

And they were spending quite a bit of time together. Ahsoka didn’t trust her ship near any potential battles, and since so much of the galaxy was a potential battle, they had to take roundabout routes and change their destination often. First to Starbase Eleven, then to Andor, then to a mining station which was fortified enough for her to wait on until she could get in touch with Starfleet. At one point Ahsoka even mentioned dropping her off at Romulus, but they quickly agreed that would be a last resort. The Romulans might not be all Sith and they might not be Separatists, but enough of them had gone to the Dark Side and they backed the Separatists enough to make her wary.

“Besides,” Michael said, “I’m not Vulcan.”

“That might be a point in your favor,” Ahsoka replied. “That’s one family mess I’m glad I don’t have to walk into.”

“I was raised on Vulcan, though,” Michael said. “To the Romulans I might as well be a red-headed stepchild.” When Ahsoka blinked, confused, she went on, “An unwanted family member.”

Ahoska nodded. “I never understood why red hair was so unwanted in human society. My -- my old master always made jokes about it, and I just thought it was because his master had red hair.” The wistful smile came again, though it faded away quickly, only to be replaced by a proper smile. “Maybe I’ll take you all the way to Earth, and I can learn there.”

Michael only shrugged. She’d never understood the phrases either, only that it was sometimes fun to tease Tilly with them.

Tilly. Tyler. Even Saru. She had no way of knowing if they’d made it away from Dava IV alive. She hadn’t felt terribly homesick for the _Discovery_ , but all at once it hit her like a wave. She retreated to her cabin and lay on the cot, staring up at the ceiling. She wanted to go home, but at the same time, she didn’t want to leave this little ship. There was something cozy about it, almost comforting. She could begin to understand why people would gather together a small group of friends and simply wander for the joy of it.

There was the company, too. She rather thought she would miss Ahsoka when she had to leave.

* * *

It was easier to count day and night once she was up and about, so Michael knew it was three days later when Ahsoka approached her. She had just finished her run, and her gray undershirt was soaked through with sweat. She felt good, though; it was partly the endorphins and partly the knowledge that she could do this. Breathing still hurt, but it was a pain she could be used to if necessary. She was, for all intents and purposes, back to normal.

It was hard to tell whether Ahsoka felt the same. It was hard to tell what Ahsoka thought at all. She merely watched for a while, inscrutable, before asking, “Did you ever study Suus Mahna?”

Michael blinked and wiped sweat from her forehead. “What?”

“Suus Mahna. It’s --”

“I know.” She wiped at her forehead again. The air in the ship was warmer than she was used to, and she couldn’t tell whether that was because of something to do with her recovery or because Togruta could handle more extreme temperatures than humans. She already suspected they could handle the cold, based on the way she’d seen them dress.

(Based on the way she’d seen Ahsoka dress. It was rather hard to help noticing. Michael tried not to feel self-conscious about it, but it was still rather odd to notice aliens in such a way.)

“Yes,” she finally said, realizing she ought to answer the question before things got truly awkward. “I did study it. I’m far from being a master, though.” She hadn’t had the discipline she ought.

“Would you teach me?”

Michael looked up in amazement and excitement, though she couldn’t properly explain either. The excitement, she supposed, could be leftover from her racing heart, though that was quickly going back to its resting rate. “I’m far from being a master,” she said again.

“And I’m far from being a student,” Ahsoka said with a fleeting grin. It made her look younger than she was. “Someone very wise once told me I ought to learn it, that it would help my concentration. I expect I don’t need it as much as I did back then, but I might as well try. It’s the first chance I’ve really had to learn.”

Michael found that hard to believe, even coming from a Jedi. “You’ve never even encountered a Vulcan before?”

“Oh, I’ve met plenty of Vulcans. Just none who would have been willing to teach me Suus Mahna. There were others who didn’t have the time, or I didn’t have the time.” She shrugged, a lazy, idle motion. It seemed far more relaxed than any other gesture Michael had seen her make. “If you’d rather not, I understand --”

Michael would never have tried to say she was as quick as a snake. Still, she was quick enough to grab Ahsoka’s wrist and tug her off-balance. Ahsoka was almost impossibly light on her feet, and instead of falling, she grabbed Michael’s shoulder, trying to bring her down to the ground as well. It was a move Michael had seen before, and one she knew how to counter. She let herself fall, twisting her body to land on her backside, and used her momentum to fling Ahsoka backward, over her head.

It wouldn’t work, at least not in the way she might have intended. Even before she was on her feet again, she knew Ahsoka would have landed easily, perhaps in a tumble, and would be ready to come at her again.

Anyone might have told her it was foolish to try to fight a Jedi, especially when winded. No one would have tried telling her it was fun. Very likely no one else would have known.

But she knew, and she was grinning as she got to her feet. She wasn’t quick enough, for soon Ahsoka had her shoulders and knocked her to the ground, this time straddling her to keep her from rising again.

“So?” Ahsoka said. Only the faintest irse and fall of her chest made her look winded, but there was an eager light in her eyes, and Michael noticed fangs peeking out past her lips. She had seen them before, but with the heat of combat still running through her veins, this was the first time she had truly _seen_ them. “Was that lesson one?”

It wasn’t only the heat of combat that Michael felt. There was another heat as well, one descending from Ahsoka’s body. How could she have thought her touch cool before? Her skin was warmer even than Michael’s. Her palms were as hot and dry as a desert, and her weight upon Michael’s stomach --

She had been asked a question. She took a breath, trying to focus. “Yes,” she said. “I think you have already surpassed your teacher.”

“I expect my form was dreadful.” Ahsoka showed no sign of moving, and Michael didn’t dare squirm to try to escape. It might well seem like another type of squirming. (It might well _be_ another type of squirming.) “Perhaps next time you could give me a formal lesson?”

Michael nodded. “Next time we’ll both be prepared.”

“I’d like that.”

She had to get up before Ahsoka’s weight pressed her into the floor. She hadn’t thought such a slender person could have such heft, but Ahsoka had a presence now that Michael couldn’t possibly ignore, and not just because she was atop her belly. That the main source of heat from Ahsoka’s body came from between her thighs and was answered by heat from between her own was almost intolerably distracting. She had to get up. She had to get Ahsoka off her.

Michael shifted her weight -- _not_ squirming, she told herself -- and reached up to push Ahsoka off her. What would have been a gentle nudge must have been more, for Ahsoka gasped and rose quickly. It wasn’t until she was on her own feet that Michael understood why: she had touched one of Ahsoka’s lekku.

It was a good thing she was already as flushed as she could be, for she knew that she must be blushing with embarrassment now. Lekku were highly sensitive, practically an erogenous zone, at least from the way the Twi’lek she briefly dated had reacted to her handling them. With both of them already flushed and flustered, what must it have felt like? Michael would have reacted exactly that way to someone trying to grab her ass or her breasts.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping to retain some dignity. “I didn’t mean -- it won’t happen again.” She’d make damn sure of that, though she couldn’t imagine Ahsoka would want another lesson now. That would make it far easier not to accidentally touch her.

“Michael,” Ahsoka said, but Michael was already hurrying off, back to her quarters.

* * *

She couldn’t stop thinking about Ahsoka. It had begun as nothing more than a nagging thought in the back of her mind, a lingering sense-memory of weight and heat, but as the evening went on, it grew, seeming to feed on every other memory of their travels together, wapring them into something they hadn’t been. Ahsoka’s smile, the brilliance of her eyes, the way she always seemed to turn up in the same place as Michael… That last was surely a coincidence. It had to be. On a ship this small, there weren’t many other places to go.

Her weight on Michael’s midsection had meant nothing either. Where else could she have landed? If she were trying to pin someone in a sparring match, Michael would have done the same thing.

But she would have gotten off a good bit quicker.

Gotten off her sparring partner, not… not _gotten off_.

But hadn’t there been something mocking, maybe even flirtatious in Ahsoka’s smile? If Michael thought back, she was sure there had been.

If she thought back, she could find flirtation in every one of their interactions. Even Ahsoka brushing a hand over her forehead could be flirtatious if she thought about it the right way. Hell, just thinking about it now brought back that heat, a sharp pulsing of her cunt.

It was the stress getting to her. That was all. She never got this worked up on the _Discovery_. She had never gotten this worked up at the Academy, either. The only difference in her situation now was that she had nearly died and been separated from everyone she knew. That had never happened before. Of course the strain of it would have an odd effect on her.

Or maybe she was going through _pon farr_.

That thought was ridiculous enough to make her laugh, but the relief didn’t last long. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ahsoka, and the heat between her legs wouldn’t stop growing.

Christ. This was going to drive her insane.

Though she’d thought of it as evening, it was probably closer to afternoon, or at least ship afternoon. Ahsoka would be busy at the helm, and the engine was running. If she made any noise, it surely wouldn’t be noticed.

Michael couldn’t believe the thoughts running through her mind, but as she tugged off her pants, she couldn’t help but bite her lower lip in anticipation. She was no Jedi and no Vulcan, and not immune to natural desires, whether they had a rational source or not. She remembered that well enough from her Academy days.

She remembered furtive afternoons in her dorm room, too. She’d never masturbated enough to make a habit of it, but clearly it had been enough that her body remembered the sensations. Her fingers quickly found her clitoris, and she bit her lip harder, trying to swallow back a moan. She really _was_ worked up. Maybe, once she was back on the ship, she ought to find chances for a little private time now and then, to keep herself on an even keel. Maybe she could invite Tyler back to her quarters…

But it was Ahsoka she thought of now, of her smirk, of her hands that could either be refreshingly cool or distractingly hot, of her slender hips and the weight she could bring to bear when she wished. Michael couldn’t tell whether her gasp was nothing more than a gasp or was the start of her traveling companion’s name.

She did know that she should have checked to make sure the door had a proper lock. She was lying on the bed, hips arching up at the touch of her own fingers, and the door slid open just a crack. “Michael?” Ahsoka called. “I wondered if you wanted --”

A pause. Silence. For a moment Michael couldn’t move, but as soon as she could, she scrambled off the bed, grabbing her pants and underwear and tugging them back on. She couldn’t do anything about the smell of her arousal in the room -- and maybe if she _had_ made a habit of masturbating at the Academy she would have remembered that little detail -- but she could at least wipe her hand and try to compose herself a little.

It didn’t work as well as she had hoped it might. She didn’t feel composed, anyway. It would have to do. It would be better to get all this settled sooner rather than later.

Ahsoka hadn’t gone far. She’d only walked a little ways down the hall where she stood, looking deliberately calm. She must have been just as flustered as Michael felt, though that wasn’t much consolation. She’d been embarrassed twice over, while Michael had only been embarrassed once.

Time to bite the bullet and get it over with. “I’m sorry,” she began, but Ahsoka was already speaking.

“I thought I’d see if you wanted some dinner,” she said. “I thought the sparring might have exerted you more than you had expected and that you would be hungry.”

She was, but it wasn’t just a hunger for food. It wasn’t just a physical hunger, either. She was unsated, and there was a dull ache just below her belly, an echo of where Ahsoka had been sitting on her before.

Michael realized she was staring and quickly looked away. “Thank you,” she said. “Rations again, I suppose?”

“Yes.” The attempt at levity hadn’t gone anywhere, judging by the awkward silence, and Michael was just debating whether it would make things better or worse to duck back into her quarters when Ahsoka went on. “About what just happened…”

“It won’t happen again,” Michael said quickly. “It was --”

“I wasn’t asking you to apologize.”

Was it a Jedi thing to interrupt without seeming to do so? Ahsoka’s voice was measured and even, as though she weren’t speaking out of turn at all. Michael was hesitant to speak, allowing Ahsoka a chance to go on.

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you,” she said. “At least, I’d been thinking of telling you. I wasn’t sure how, or whether I should bother, but now I think I have to. It isn’t right to either of us to keep it hidden away.”

Michael’s heart was pounding so hard she was certain Ahsoka must be able to hear it. Her face remained as even as ever, though, and only a faint tremor of her hands betrayed any emotion.

Michael tried not to think about those hands on her skin.

“I don’t know whether it came from the mind meld or not, but it began after that. It wouldn’t have had much of a chance to begin before.” Ahsoka looked for a moment as though she was about to laugh but didn’t. “I’ve been thinking about you a great deal. I thought it was only a fascination at first, based on what had slipped into my mind from yours during the mind meld. You’re a very interesting person, Michael Burnham.”

Michael’s cheeks were burning. Everything about her was burning. “You said at first.”

Ahsoka inclined her head slightly. “Yes. I find you attractive, Michael. I hadn’t expected to -- I hadn’t even wanted to at first, but now… well. After our sparring match, it might be best to be open about it. I know how to control myself, but I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I know how to control myself too,” Michael said. “Any prior evidence to the contrary aside.”

That brought a smile to her face. It was wistful, as though she had lost something, and Michael wondered how the hell she kept being drawn to people with that sort of smile.

“Look,” she went on, “I don’t know how much longer we’ll be together. I don’t know if we’ll meet each other again after you get me back to my ship. If you want to continue as we have been, I understand. It might even be for the best. If not, I wouldn’t mind putting off dinner for a little while.”

In the romances she’d been convinced to watch from time to time, there was always a sharp cut between the moment two people agreed to fuck and the actual fucking itself. With the few lovers she’d had in the past, such discussions had always happened when they were sitting close together, and there was very little time between any necessary negotiations and the fun of pulling off one another’s clothes. Now, however, Ahsoka was standing a good few meters away, at the other end of the hall, and all Michael could do was stand by the door and watch as she walked forward to meet her. Every second that passed made her feel as though there was a magnet in her torso, tugging her irresistably toward Ahsoka.

By the time Ahsoka was within arm’s reach, Michael couldn’t wait any longer, She took Ahsoka’s hands and pulled her into the room, stumbling backward to the bed. She felt graceless in comparison to Ahsoka’s quick steps, but that hardly mattered now. She was too interested in the feeling of Ahsoka’s lips against her own.

Not everyone she had kissed in her life had been human, but as she could count all those people on one hand, it wasn’t exactly a good measure of what various lips were like. Ahsoka’s, for instance, were firmer than Michael was used to, but as they parted, a nimble tongue slipped out and pressed against Michael’s lower lip. She must have responded too slowly, for a moment later, something sharp nipped at her lip. Michael drew back in surprise and saw a faint grin on Ahsoka’s face.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, sounding almost teasing and almost regretful.

“No,” Michael said. She half-expected Ahsoka to say something about how she would have to try harder next time, but instead the Togruta only eased her down onto the bed and settled atop her, the hot weight welcome against her body.

From there, it felt almost like a dream. Michael’s hands caressed Ahsoka’s skin, and she marveled at how smooth it felt. It seemed to grow warmer the longer she touched it, and she almost feared she would burn herself.

It wasn’t true fear, though. It was nothing more than caution, and that faded away the longer the two of them pressed together. It was hard to be cautious when there were a pair of hot fingers sliding in and out of her cunt and a mouth over her nipple that came just close enough to scraping the skin with her teeth to keep Michael on her toes and excited. She bit her lip, trying to hold everything in, until she remembered they were the only two on the ship and there was no need to keep silent.

That revelation sent her over the edge. Michael’s hips bucked against Ahsoka’s hand, and she ran her own hands over Ahsoka’s lekku, both for the sensation against her palms and in an attempt to reciprocate in some way what she was being given.

Ahsoka lifted her head, bemusement in her blue eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I… dated a Twi’lek,” Michael said. “He liked it when I did that.” He’d liked it when she’d licked the tips of his lekku, too, but from the way Ahsoka was trying to keep from laughing, that wouldn’t be nearly as inviting to her.

“Mine aren’t as sensitive,” she said. “It’s nice, but nothing special. Here. Let me show you what is.”

She guided Michael’s hand down, between her legs, to a set of striations on her thigh. Michael couldn’t have said what any of the holes between her legs were, but when she touched the stripes, she found they were slightly textured, rough against her fingers, and as she stroked them, Ahsoka shuddered against her. She played with time and pressure, playing with them until Ahsoka cried out and pressed her face against Michael’s shoulder.

* * *

Michael drifted in and out of sleep. Once when she woke, Ahsoka had left, but she returned a few minutes later with a plate of food for them both. They ate, then slept again, and when Michael woke she found she had nestled against Ahsoka and kicked off her blanket. Ahsoka produced enough heat for them both.

In time, they would separate. They would reach the _Discovery_ or some starbase, and Michael would have to be on her way. Until then, she intended to cling to Ahsoka for as long as she could.


End file.
